“We were fifteen months apart in age which meant everything was a competition; who could read all the Disney books the fastest, ride their bike further or know all answers to the universe both large and small.”
― K.L. Randis, quote from Spilled Milk
“note cards in my pocket. My mom sat against the”
― K.L. Randis, quote from Spilled Milk
“proctors would nod their heads and mark the sheets as it fed out the results. Everyone wanted to know the truth, yet they asked the wrong questions”
― K.L. Randis, quote from Spilled Milk
“I would get an Irish victim advocate. Her hair bounced around her face, blazing in a fireball of red glory while highlighting the doubt in her eyes as she tried to soothe me. I took it with a grain of salt, smiled, and accepted the one of many hugs that generally came my way after a debriefing. She”
― K.L. Randis, quote from Spilled Milk
“The security guards knew me well and were always happy to see me. The woman guard would greet me with a smile. “Ah, back again today?” I”
― K.L. Randis, quote from Spilled Milk
“We parked behind the building and came through the less utilized handicapped entrance. Mom had rods and screws molded to her spine from a work injury years prior. She was a walking tin man, awkward gait included, guaranteed to set off the annoying alarm on the metal detectors. They waved a wand over her instead. She would nod and apologize for the inconvenience to the guards, but the smirk on her face absorbed all the pitied glances thrown her way. Stroudsburg”
― K.L. Randis, quote from Spilled Milk
“Even though he was my lawyer, I only exchanged a few words with him throughout our time together. Heather was the one to keep me updated on the important things and she would relay any information back to him that I needed him to know. Whenever I would enter his office his eyes would say, “I’m sorry you’re here again”. I”
― K.L. Randis, quote from Spilled Milk
K.L. Randis
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“Is this place called Virgins?
Well, I shouldn't be here!
-Nina”
― Lisi Harrison, quote from Invasion of the Boy Snatchers
“Altruism accrues little benefit to those lying cold in the gutter.”
― Raymond E. Feist, quote from Silverthorn
“إنَّ الذاكرة , كما تعلم , هي الفخُّ الأكبر .”
― Paul Auster, quote from In the Country of Last Things
“There is one thing I like about the Poles—their language. Polish, when it is spoken by intelligent people, puts me in ecstasy. The sound of the language evokes strange images in which there is always a greensward of fine spiked grass in which hornets and snakes play a great part. I remember days long back when Stanley would invite me to visit his relatives; he used to make me carry a roll of music because he wanted to show me off to these rich relatives. I remember this atmosphere well because in the presence of these smooth−tongued, overly polite, pretentious and thoroughly false Poles I always felt miserably uncomfortable. But when they spoke to one another, sometimes in French, sometimes in Polish, I sat back and watched them fascinatedly. They made strange Polish grimaces, altogether unlike our relatives who were stupid barbarians at bottom. The Poles were like standing snakes fitted up with collars of hornets. I never knew what they were talking about but it always seemed to me as if they were politely assassinating some one. They were all fitted up with sabres and broad−swords which they held in their teeth or brandished fiercely in a thundering charge. They never swerved from the path but rode rough−shod over women and children, spiking them with long pikes beribboned with blood−red pennants. All this, of course, in the drawing−room over a glass of strong tea, the men in butter−colored gloves, the women dangling their silly lorgnettes. The women were always ravishingly beautiful, the blonde houri type garnered centuries ago during the Crusades. They hissed their long polychromatic words through tiny, sensual mouths whose lips were soft as geraniums. These furious sorties with adders and rose petals made an intoxicating sort of music, a steel−stringed zithery slipper−gibber which could also register anomalous sounds like sobs and falling jets of water.”
― Henry Miller, quote from Sexus
“Oh God. It isn’t Wednesday, is it, Hardy?” he pleaded, ascending the steps toward the footman, who smiled at sight of him, bowing as he opened the door.
"Yes, my lord. Has been all day, I’m afraid”
― Diana Gabaldon, quote from Lord John and the Private Matter
Wild Seed
Silence
The Year of Living B...
Airborn
Moab Is My Washpot
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